Bakura's Birthday
by Jem Kallop
Summary: Pointless thiefshipping fluff XD It's Bakura's birthday, and Marik won't let him in the kitchen. Just what exactly is going on...? Sort of abridged personalities? Hope you enjoy!


**Hello again! This is pure thiefshipping fluff, because I wanted to attempt it. Plus, I love reading it :P Also, I know Bakura probably doesn't have a real birthday, but just go with it...? I wanted Marik to have an excuse to try to be nice XD Hope you enjoy! - Jem**

The moment Bakura woke up, he could tell something was wrong.

Keeping his eyes shut, he tried to place the feeling, shifting slightly and stretching his arms out to the other side of the bed.

They met empty air.

Confused, he cracked an eye open. The space next to him was empty – Marik was gone.

That would explain why it was so quiet.

Sighing to himself, Bakura decided to enjoy this rare moment of peace, rolling over as his eyes slid shut again. A part of him mused that he actually missed the weight of the blonde beside him, pressing on his chest, but he pushed that thought away, relaxing into the sheets. Moments like this were few and far between for the ancient spirit now, and he intended to make the most of this one.

Alas, as ever, it was to be short lived.

A crash resounded through the small apartment, followed by several smaller bangs and a loud Egyptian curse. Bakura's eyes opened and he reluctantly clambered out of bed, pulling a robe on as he padded down the hall. He followed the noises to the kitchen door, which was, surprisingly, closed.

"Marik?"

There was a surprised gasp, followed by several scuffles.

Bakura heaved a sigh. "Marik, I can hear you in there. Are you alright?"

Again there was no reply.

"Marik, if this door isn't open in three seconds I'm breaking it down."

"All right, all right, keep your hair on fluffy!" came the muffled reply. Footsteps sounded as Marik reluctantly twisted the doorknob and slipped into the hall, closing the door behind him. His blonde hair was a tangled mess, his short purple hoody and black trousers were rumpled and his eyeliner was smudged. In short, he looked awful, or as awful as he was able to, anyway.

Bakura raised an eyebrow. "What happened to you?"

The tan Egyptian scrunched up his face, refusing to meet the other's gaze. "Nothing happened. Everything is fine and everything is normal. Go back to bed."

"Seriously"? Bakura was amazed. "You're normally the one trying to get me up in the mornings. Anyway, I'm awake now, I want breakfast." He made to open the door but Marik stepped right in front of him.

"NO! I mean, you-you can have breakfast in bed! I'll make it for you."

Ok, now Bakura _knew_ there was something wrong. "Marik? Why can't I go in the kitchen?"

The blonde blinked. "What are you talking about?"

He sighed, frustrated. "I can tell you're hiding something. What were all those noises about earlier?"

Marik drew himself up, looking down on Bakura. "I don't know what you're talking about. Go back to bed."

Bakura rolled his eyes. "Out of the way, Marik. I'm hungry." He reached for the doorknob but Marik grasped his wrist.

"No! Bad fluffy! You don't need to go in there!"

"Marik, what is going on?"

"Nothing! Nothing at all!"

"So let me go then." Bakura shook him off and reached for the handle, but Marik threw his arms around his partner's waist.

"No! Just – just go back to bed, I'll m-make you breakfast, just don't open the door!" The last part came out as a desperate squeak as Marik forcibly shoved Bakura back and threw himself into his pale chest, sobbing into his robe. Shocked, Bakura wrapped his arms around his boyfriend's shaking shoulders. "Marik? What the devil is going on?"

All he got in reply were muffled sobs.

Gently, Bakura took hold of the slightly taller Egyptian's shoulders, drawing him back until he could look into his eyes. "Marik? Please, tell me?"

The Egyptian looked back, tears still shining in the depths of his violet eyes. "I...I just..."

Looking between his partner's gaze and the still-closed kitchen door, Bakura came to a conclusion. Stepping back, he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Marik, what did you do to the kitchen?"

The violet eyes blinked. "N-nothing..."

"Don't lie to me, Marik. You've never been able to."

The blonde drew in a gasping breath. "I...I-I just wanted it to be perfect..."

Sighing, Bakura reached around his boyfriend's still-shaking form and opened the kitchen door. Grasping Marik's shoulders, he walked him backwards until they were both in the kitchen and stood in the middle of what looked like a bomb site.

Bakura's jaw dropped.

There were bits of brown muck everywhere, spattered all over the counters and up the walls. Bakura swore he even saw some bits sticking forlornly to the ceiling. The oven door was open, smoke billowing out and smothering the air. Sitting on top of the hob was the blackened remains of a baking tray, and sitting on top of that was a sorry-looking black mound covered in more of the mucky brown stuff.

Bakura looked at Marik. Marik looked at Bakura.

The Egyptian sucked in a breath. "I-I'm sorry. I just w-wanted to surprise you...it's your birthday and I-I know you like chocolate cake...but you'd never ask for anything, so I j-just..."

Bakura grasped his shoulders, giving him a little shake. "You were making chocolate cake?"

"Y-yes..."

"And it went wrong?"

A sniff. "Uh-huh..."

"And that's all?"

A small nod.

Bakura just stared for a moment. Then he doubled over, loud huffs of laughter escaping his grinning mouth. "Gods, Marik...that's _it?_"

Marik folded his arms, pouting slightly. "Well, fluffy, there's no need to be so rude."

"S-sorry...it's just...the way you were looking at me, I thought someone had _died_, or something..."

Marik stared at his boyfriend's grinning form, a small smile beginning to tug at the corners of his own mouth. "I guess I may have overreacted a little."

"Just a tad!" Bakura finally straightened, surveying the bomb site with a small smile. "Gods, I love you. Come on, we'll deal with this later. I want to watch a film."

Marik looked down. "Are you sure? Aren't you hungry?"

He shrugged. "We can order something in. Come on, it's my birthday after all. Do as I say without arguing for once."

The blonde smiled. "Just for today. Just for you."

Bakura grabbed his hand and tugged him into the living room, pulling him down next to him on the sofa. "Can we watch Cannibal Holocaust?"

Marik rolled his eyes. "Again? Will you never get tired of that film?"

"Nope." Bakura widened his eyes and pulled out his bottom lip, the picture of innocence. "Please?"

Marik laughed. "Fine, fine! I'll put it on. You want popcorn?"

"Yes, but I don't think it's safe to go back in that kitchen just yet."

"That's...probably true."

Once the film was playing, Marik plopped down on the sofa next to Bakura, curling up against his side. Bakura wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer. "Thank you, by the way."

The blonde blinked up at him. "Huh?"

"Thank you. For the cake."

Marik blushed. "Don't thank me. It was a disaster."

"Still, it's the thought that counts. Why did you want to make me something, anyway? My birthday became largely irrelevant once I got past 5000."

"But that doesn't mean you shouldn't celebrate it! Besides, I wanted to show you..."

Bakura leaned back slightly, meeting his eyes. "Show me what?"

Marik's cheeks darkened even more, dropping his gaze. "That...that I love you."

Bakura smirked and pulled him closer. "I know you do. I love you too."

Marik grinned and rested his head on his shoulder. "Good. Now be quiet and watch your film, fluffy."

The film continued as the two males sat happily in each other's arms. The mess of the kitchen was left to be cleaned up another day.

**The ending's pretty rubbish...sorry about that :/ Let me know what you think? Also, if anyone's interested I will be updating my other fic, 'Belonging', with chapter 2 very soon! Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed! - Jem**


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